Prophetic Darkness
by Tonya
Summary: ***CHAPTER 8 FINALLY ADDED!!***The arrival of a new prophecy causes troubles for Wesley and a newly-released Faith.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Prophetic Darkness

Author: Tonya (tigerlily1998@hotmail.com)

Disclaimer: No own, no sue.

Rating: PG/PG-13

Spoilers: "Deep Down"-- season premiere of AtS season 4

Feedback: I will do my interpretive dance entitled "Why I Love Feedback"!!!

Distribution: Going Rogue, Shipper Dreams, Belonging, True Faith, and everyone else who has archived my previous stuff. Everyone else just ask! It's guaranteed I'll say yes!

Summary: The arrival of a new prophecy causes troubles for Wesley and a newly-released Faith.

A/N: This is a companion piece to "Two Simple Words" so I guess this fic would be considered AU since Faith has been released from jail two months ago. Takes place early in Season 4-- Wes has returned Angel from the sea and Lilah is the head of W&H.

*********

"You know, our firm has stumbled across an interesting little prophecy."

Wesley watched as Lilah zipped up her skirt and ran her hands down her hips to smooth out the fabric. Her back to him, even as she spoke, she slipped her blouse on over her shoulders.

"Really," he sighed indifferently from the bed.

She turned to him as she ran a hand through her hair, detangling her tresses. "And we could always use a little new blood at the head our research department."

"I'm not interested in working for the evil incarnate itself, Lilah."

She shrugged and smirked. "Either way, the offer still stands."

Wesley scoffed under his breath. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You do that." 

Lilah gave her hair a confident toss over her shoulder as she retrieved her purse and briefcase from Wesley's desk. She strolled out of the room, pulling the bedroom door closed behind her.

"Prophecies," Wesley mumbled to himself.

Like he would give a damn about a prophecy. What good had ever come from any prophecy he had had the misfortune to lay his hands on. Somehow or another, they had all led him in the wrong direction-- some with more dire results than others. Prophecies were nothing but the Magic 8-ball of the Powers That Be. Shake it one way, and the outlook was good. Shake it again, merely seconds later, and the outcome would change drastically. Prophecies were nothing to him.

Wesley sighed as he felt the warmth of a hot shower calling out to him. He removed himself from the bed with a sigh and stretched before slowly making his way across the bedroom. As he walked, his mind drifted to Faith and her earlier visit. It had shocked him to say the least. He hadn't set eyes on her-- hadn't even given her second thought-- since the night she had turned herself in to the authorities. It felt oddly surreal to hear an apology from her, but she had seemed to be sincere in her wish for him to forgive her. 

He found himself wishing that she hadn't run away like she had, but then again, what else would have been left to say? The apology had been given. The forgiveness had been established. The rogue Slayer and the rogue Watcher had finally come to terms with each other, and now they could continue on their paths-- no longer intertwined with the other. Their business was now officially done. 

But, deep down, Wesley couldn't fight the feeling that their paths had yet to untangle….

As Wesley passed his desk, he noticed Lilah's legal pad lying upon it. He could only chuckle bitterly to himself as he picked up the notebook and began to flip nonchalantly through it. Lilah definitely knew how to play the game-- "accidentally" leaving her things behind. Knowing damn well that he would go through it. Probably hoping that it would peak his interest enough for him to join her team….

Wesley's thoughts froze in the crevices of his mind as his eyes absorbed a page in the center of the legal pad. It resembled typical meeting notes-- minutes from the last meeting, discussion of new potential clients, company revenue. However, in the center of the mess, Lilah had marked a line of scribble with a star-- "Prophecy? The chosen one turned dark? Key player?"

The chosen one turned dark.

Wesley frowned deeply as the line continued to echo in his mind.

**********

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Leaning onto the counter, her chin resting in the palm of her hand, Faith watched the coffee run into the pot. She could only sigh as she wondered what the hell had happened to her life.

"Faith," Debbie said from over her shoulder. "You got someone at number 5."

Faith looked towards booth number five and rolled her eyes. She grabbed her order pad and a pen from her apron as she slowly made her way over to the gentleman in the business suit.

She was a Slayer. She was supposed to be fighting evil, saving the damn world. Nowhere in the job description did it ever say, "Must be able to wait tables with a smile." She shouldn't have had to work in some diner just to make some cash. 

Besides, this job was testing her people skills more and more everyday. Somehow, Faith always ended up with the problem customers, and each one was pushing her closer and closer to her snapping point. If it wasn't some little weasely teenager and his buds trying to dine and dash on her, it was the old guy who kept bitching because the coffee was too damn hot and the soup was too damn cold. And every single time, she had to reel in her natural urges to grab the cheapskates and break their legs so they couldn't "dash" and to drown the old guy in his coffee and soup.

And then you had people like this guy. With their GQ suits and haircuts. The ones who oozed professionalism, but at the same time, wouldn't hesitate for a second to overtly flirt with her and occasionally proposition her. It always happened, without fail. She hated assholes like….

"Wesley?" Faith asked as she finally stood before the booth.

Wesley laid his suit jacket beside him in the booth before turning to her with a slight smile. "Hello, Faith. I didn't know you worked here."

"Yeah," she replied, looking him over with a smirk. "Rejoining civilization and all that crap. What are you doing here?"

"Just ordering some breakfast before work."

"Since when does Angel enforce a dress code?" she laughed.

Wesley simply shrugged. "Things do have a tendency to change."

"Poster girl for change here," Faith smirked as she held up her hand. "So, you want coffee or orange juice or something?"

"Coffee would be nice."

"'Kay. Just hang tight." 

Faith turned and made her way back behind the counter to fix his drink. When she turned back, the fresh mug of coffee in her hands, he was already gone. Frowning, Faith walked over to the booth and sat the mug upon the table.

"What the hell?" she mumbled to herself.

Maybe this was all just payback. She had run out on him the other night, and now, he was simply returning the favor. Faith silently scolded herself for even thinking that he may have shown up to see her, to maybe try to help mend their old relationship. No, it had just been a taste of her own medicine. Why else would he have shown up in a diner that was nearly forty minutes from where he lived?

Faith rolled her eyes with a sigh. As she walked away, a small slip of paper where Wesley had placed his jacket caught her attention. She looked around the diner for a moment before retrieving what happened to be a business card.

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce

VP of Research

Wolfram and Hart Lawfirm"

"Wolfram and Hart?" Faith asked quietly.

She remembered them. In a way, they had been the reason she had ended up in jail. They had been the ones to offer her a job to dust Angel, and it was that job offer that had changed everything. Everything with Angel. Everything with Wesley. And _definitely _everything with her.

Why would Wesley be working with them?

Faith frowned and placed the card in her apron.

**********

"So how's the view?"

Wesley looked up from his computer with a smirk. Lilah lingered in the doorway of his office and smiled at him. 

She entered and shut the office door gracefully with her hip. She motioned with her cell phone at the large window behind Wesley as she continued, "Nice overlook of the city, huh?"

"I've seen better," Wesley said and returned his eyes to the computer screen.

Lilah laughed quietly and sat on the edge of his desk. She casually crossed her legs, and her skirt rode up slightly on her thighs. The smile on her face only intensified as she watched Wesley's gaze travel from his computer screen to her legs and back again.

"It's ironic, really," she sighed. "This office used to belong to Lindsey. A bad guy turned good guy abandons the roost, and a good guy turned bad guy takes it over. Kinda poetic."

"I've always found poetry highly overrated," Wesley replied casually.

"We can't all be enthusiasts of the art, I suppose."

"Was there something you wanted, Lilah?" Wesley asked, finally looking up at her. "I am busy at the moment."

Lilah opened her mouth to respond, but her cell phone began to ring. She held up a finger to hold her conversation with Wesley as she slid off the desk and answered the phone. She strolled to a corner of the office as Wesley turned his eyes back to his computer, listening intently to her one-sided conversation.

"Lilah," she said into the phone. "Gavin, your report was supposed to be on my desk by eight this morning. It's now noon, and I still don't see a report. Now why is that?…. Look, I realize that I said you could take over this little project, but I at least expected you to _pretend _to do your job. I need the complete prophecy. One little sound-bite isn't really going to help us. I need to know what side she's going to be on. Is she key, or will she just be another obstacle?…. Maybe when you were Linwood's golden boy he put up with your little bullshit excuses, but I want that report on my desk in twenty minutes."

Lilah sighed and hung up the phone. She turned to Wesley with a slight smile. "Well, I'm going to need to cut our little rendezvous short."

"Pity," Wesley mumbled, his fingers working on the keyboard.

"And don't wait up looking for me tonight," Lilah smirked as she made her way to the office door.

"I never do," Wesley replied with the same smirk as Lilah walked out.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you a million times over for the feedback, guys!! And thanks Imzadi for the Lawfirm/Attorneys at Law thing. I knew it looked weird for a reason! This is a fairly short chapter, but I should have another one out by the end of the weekend, time permitting.

**********

Fred hummed quietly to herself as she walked towards the settee in the hotel lobby, a box of doughnuts in one hand and the day's paper in the other.

As she got situated, she stopped humming for a moment and let the silence of the hotel engulf her. All summer she had hated the silence. Every echoing footstep, every vibrating voice had just proven how alone she and Gunn had really been in the giant hotel. But now, it was different. With the return of Angel, it was almost a pleasant silence.

Now, under the stillness, she knew they were there. Gunn, upstairs sleeping away the morning in in her bed. Angel, upstairs regaining his strength. It was a good silence, and Fred knew that it would be even better if Cordelia was back home as well….

Fred sighed and opened the paper, searching for the comics. As she fumbled with the section she wanted, the rest of the paper slid from her lap and cascaded to the floor. Fred frowned and looked down at the mess of newspaper at her feet. She sighed again and leaned over to retrieve the disheveled sections. 

Her hand stopped short as a bold headline in the business section caught her attention. She held her breath as she retrieved the business section from the pile and read the remainder of the article.

"No," she said quietly as she finally finished the piece.

Fred glanced around the empty lobby, her mind reeling. She took a moment to gather her senses before quickly making her way to the hotel counter. On the message pad beside the phone, she left a scribbled note for Gunn, telling him that she took his truck to go to the store. Once the message was done, Fred ran out of the hotel, the business section still grasped tightly in her hands.

**********

Wesley straightened his tie as the knocking at his apartment door intensified. He looked down at his watch with a growl before making his way out of his bedroom and down the hallway.

He opened the apartment door and couldn't stop the frown that formed on his lips.

Fred returned the bitter expression, her delicate features furrowing. She held up the newspaper as she huffed, "What the hell is this, Wesley?"

Wesley glanced at the paper momentarily before turning his eyes back to Fred with a shrug of his shoulders. "I don't really follow the NASDAQ."

Fred's frown intensified. She pointed at the article above the stock market listings. "_This_. Wolfram and Hart appoint new vice-president of research?" 

Wesley simply sighed, leaning against the door slightly.

"What… What is going on?" Fred asked, the anger on her face dissolving into disbelief. "You're working for them now? Did you forget that their, like, our sworn enemy?"

"They're _your _sworn enemy, not mine."

"I can't believe this. You're actually going to work for these people?"

"Actually, the article is a little dated. I'm _already _working for them." He glanced down at his watch again. "In fact, you're going to make me late."

"Then, you'll just have to be late," Fred fumed. 

She moved to enter the apartment, but without hesitation, Wesley threw his arm up to block her entry. He held aggressively to the doorframe, his eyes dark. Fred held his eyes for a moment, taken aback by his sudden hostility. She turned her eyes from his long enough to glance at his hand firmly placed on the doorframe. After a moment, she took a step back, her gaze turning back to his.

"Is there something in particular you wanted, Fred?"

Her eyes searched his face, looking for any remnant of the Wesley she had once known. The Wesley who had been their leader. The Wesley who had helped to bring her out of her shell. The Wesley who had been her friend, part of her family….

"What's wrong with you?" she asked quietly.

"I'm feeling quite fine, actually," he replied casually. "Better than I have in a long time."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her throat tightening as her anger slowly returned.

"I have my reasons," he said gruffly. "Will there be anything else, or can we get on with our lives now?"

Fred shook her head in disbelief. She waited a moment before asking, "Last year, you tried to kill me, you remember that?"

Wesley did not respond.

"And afterwards, I came to you to tell you that you had no reason to blame yourself for what had happened between us because that Billy guy had worked his mojo on you," she continued, clenching the newspaper tightly in her hands. "You thought that the demon had brought out some hidden dark side of you, but I told you that it wasn't. That you were a good man."

Wesley clenched his jaw and waited.

"But now I know the truth. All this time I've been blind to who you really are," she fumed, laughing bitterly. "You _are_ a bastard."

With that, Fred turned and stormed down the hallway. Wesley watched as she disappeared around the corner before stepping back into his apartment and slamming the door shut.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks again for the feedback, guys!!!!

**********

Listening to her heart pounding in her ears, Faith darted up the staircase.

"I hate it when they make me chase 'em," she growled as she stopped at the top of the stairs.

She held her breath and listened to the sound of the abandoned apartment complex. A smirk formed at the corners of her lips as she heard a noise come from an apartment at the end of the hallway.

Faith cautiously made her way down the hallway, stopping at the open door of the darkened apartment. She sighed loudly and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You know, I thought you guys were supposed to be evil," Faith scoffed. "What kind of vamp runs and hides like a little girl instead of fighting?"

She stepped into the apartment, stake drawn.

The closet door behind her swung open violently. The vampire came at her fast, but Faith was ready for him. She turned and grabbed the vampire by the front of his shirt. She tossed him across the living room with a grunt, and he collided violently with the wall.

"You know, you're just making this harder on yourself," Faith smirked as the vampire slowly got to his feet. "Because me? I could go all night."

The vampire lunged at her, hitting her across the face with a right hook. Only slightly stunned, Faith hit him back. Once. Twice. Three punches to the face. As the vampire stumbled, she kicked him hard to the chest, plowing him into the wall again.

"Nice knowing ya, pal." Faith pulled her stake and plunged it deep into the vampire's chest before he could react.

The vampire dissolved into a pile of dust at her feet, and Faith smiled triumphantly. Her smile began to fade as she listened to the apartment. She clinched her hand tighter around the stake, focusing. 

Instantly, she spun around, her stake drawn.

Wesley only had enough time to raise his hand up to protect himself. He looked down at his chest where his hand was vainly attempting to protect his beating heart. The stake had stopped right at the tender flesh of the back of his hand, digging in between the bones.

"Nice to see your Slayer reflexes didn't atrophy," he grimaced as the pain spread to the tips of his fingers.

Faith stared at him for a moment before pulling away the stake. "Do you have a damn death wish?" she spat. "I could have fucking killed you!"

Faith stepped away from him, her heart racing. Too similar. The situation. He came out of nowhere. She had just followed her instinct. She was in battle-mode. She couldn't just drop out of battle-mode with a snap of her fingers. But Buffy had known. She had seen what Faith could not. But by then, it had been too late….

Faith ran a shaky hand through her hair as she fought to catch her breath.

Wesley watched her, the concern evident on his face. "Faith, are you okay?"

"Why the hell are you following me, Wesley?" she asked between breaths.

Wesley massaged his sore hand with a frown. "I need you to keep a low profile for a while."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not really sure," he said as he straightened his tie, "but just trust me on this. Keep a low profile."

"Trust you?" Faith scoffed. "How dumb do you think I am?"

"Faith, I…."

Faith tugged at her tanktop with a smirk. She walked past him but stopped just behind him. She lingered over his shoulder, speaking softly into his ear. "They say you should never judge a book by its cover." She gently stroked her fingers down the sleeve of Wesley's crisp white shirt. "But I see your cover, and I sure as hell don't trust it."

"Faith, you don't understand," Wesley began.

When he turned to face her, Faith was already gone.

*********

Fred stared at her reflection in the mirror as she slowly brushed her hair.

Ever since she had visited him that morning, he had been the only thing on her mind. She couldn't help but think about Wesley, about what he had done. For a moment, she wondered if she had been too harsh, but that moment was fleeting.

He deserved more than harsh for what he was doing to them. How could he purposefully work for the enemy? A enemy that had tried to kill them all on one occasion or another.

She feared what kind of information he was sharing with his new colleagues. What was he telling them about the hotel-- about its layout and secret entrances? What was he telling them about each of his former friends-- about their weaknesses and strengths? What was he telling them about Angel and about Connor, for that matter?

"Fred, babe?"

Fred looked up at the sound of Gunn's voice. He leaned in the doorway to her room, watching her. He gave her a concerned glance as he stepped into the room and closed the door.

"You okay?"

"Mm-hmm," she said, turning her gaze back to the mirror. "Fine and dandy."

She continued to softly brush her hair, alternating between the right and left side. Gunn stepped behind her and placed his warm hands on her shoulders, massaging them gently. He watched her silently for a moment before smiling slowly.

"Babe, you keep it up, and we're gonna be twins," he teased gently.

Fred stopped mid-stroke and smiled sheepishly. She placed the brush on the dresser with a sigh.

"What's on your mind?" he asked. "And don't tell me there's nothing on your mind because you have that look."

"What look?" she smiled.

"The I'm-on-the-verge-of-bursting-if-I-hold-this-in-any-longer look."

Fred laid her hands upon Gunn's as she looked up at him. "Remember my note from earlier?"

"Yeah, when you went to the store."

Fred dropped her gaze to her lap as she admitted quietly, "I didn't go to the store. I went to see Wesley."

Fred felt Gunn's hands tense up on her shoulders. "You did _what_?"

Fred slipped out from under his hands and walked towards her bed. "I had to," she explained as she approached the nightstand.

"Fred, why the hell did you go see him? I've told you…."

"I know. He wants nothing to do with us. We want nothing to do with him," she frowned. "I get that, but I saw something this morning."

Fred retrieved the slightly crumpled article from the drawer of the nightstand. She handed it to Gunn as she continued, "He's working for them now."

Gunn skimmed the article, feeling the anger rise up in his chest. "That son of a bitch," he growled. "What the hell…?!"

Fred stepped closer to him, placing a finger on his lips to shush him. "Angel will hear you."

"Angel _needs _to hear me. He needs to hear this."

Fred shook her head. "No, not yet. He's still recovering from being underwater for three months. We can't just lay this on him. Not yet."

"But, Fred, if Wes is working for Wolfram and Hart, Angel has to know. This isn't something we can just hide…."

"I know, but… I just don't want to upset him. And hearing that a man with an inside look into Angel Investigations is now working for Wolfram and Hart will _probably _upset him."

Gunn glanced down at the article in his hands. "What did he have to say for himself?" he grumbled.

Fred sighed and ran her hands through her hair. "Not much," she shrugged.

"Not much?" Gunn scoffed, looking up at her. "He's working for the enemy, and he has nothing to say?"

"I don't know. He was just… _not_ Wesley."

"He hasn't been Wesley for a while, Fred."

"He was…. He didn't care." Fred shrugged her shoulders again. "He just didn't care."

"We have to tell Angel, Fred."

"I know," she sighed.

"And we have to tell him soon."

"I know," she frowned. "But not tonight."

"Fred," Gunn sighed, frustrated. "He needs to know right now."

"No, Gunn, please not tonight," Fred replied, taking his free hand in hers. "I just… I just don't want to think about it anymore tonight. And if we tell Angel, I'll have to tell him everything that Wes _didn't_ say, and then he'll get all angry and blood-hungry and then we'll have a vengeful vampire on our hands and it's late and I just want to sleep and forget it even happened for right now…."

Gunn shushed her gently, pulling her into his arms. He tenderly smoothed down her hair as he replied, "Okay, babe, we won't tell him tonight."

"Thank you," she mumbled into his chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him tight.

**********

Wesley closed his apartment door and locked it securely behind himself. He slowly strolled into his kitchen, hitting the light switch as he passed, and opened his freezer door. Pulling a piece of ice from the ice tray, Wesley placed it against his bruised hand. He inhaled quickly between his teeth as the ice made contact with his hot flesh.

He pulled the ice away and looked at the large black and blue mass that seemed to be spreading across the back of his hand. He made a fist a couple of times, watching his bones and veins move under his flesh. He had been more than lucky tonight.

Thank God for Slayer reflexes, he thought solemnly.

He tossed the ice into the sink with a sigh. With his uninjured left hand, he loosened his tie and tossed it upon the kitchen table. He looked down at his hand again and frowned.

He didn't know what he was expecting Faith to say to him tonight. Had he honestly expected her to trust him when she had never had a reason to trust him before? And to his own surprise, her words had wounded him a lot more than he ever thought they would….

He started towards his bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he proceeded down the hallway. He stepped into his room, hitting the light switch as he crossed the threshold.

In that moment, Wesley had to swallow down his primal urge to scream.

Faith sat on the corner of his bed, twirling her stake. She looked up at him and smirked. She pointed her stake towards the open window as she said, "You know, you should really lock your window. Any psychopath can crawl up the fire escape and get in here."

Composing himself, Wesley frowned at her. "You would be an expert in that field, wouldn't you?" He sighed and pulled off his shirt, leaving on his undershirt, and tossed it into a corner of the room. "What do you want, Faith?"

"Why do _you _have the attitude?" she scoffed. "I'm the one being stalked here, pal."

Wesley crossed his arms and stood tall in the doorway. "I'm not stalking you."

Faith tilted her head slightly and looked him over, studying him. "Interesting."

"What's interesting?"

"How it's all making sense now," she replied as she stood. "I've been trying to figure you out since the diner. I'll admit that I was a little slow at first, but I get it now. The new clothes. The new attitude. This whole raw sexiness you're trying your damndest to put off. I get it."

"There's nothing _to _get, Faith," Wesley frowned.

"Oh, but I think there is," she said as she gently poked him in the chest with the stake. She searched his eyes for a moment before adding, "You've switched teams."

"I am far from switching teams, Faith."

"Really?" she asked. She reached into the pocket of her jeans and removed the business card. She held it up to his face. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't these the bad guys?"

Wesley looked at the business card but did not respond.

"And isn't that your name at the top in the fancy look-at-me-I'm-evil font?"

He cleared his throat. "I _am_ working for Wolfram and Hart, but it's not for the purposes you believe."

"Really? Because what _I_ believe is that the after-hours perks weren't enough for ya," she replied, slipping his card back into her pocket. She smirked as she read the stunned look on Wesley's face. "The plot thickens, huh?"

"Faith…."

"The other night when I stopped by, there was a woman here. I heard her. I _thought _I recognized the voice, but it wasn't until you left that little souvenir at the diner, that the pieces came together for me. Dear sweet and innocent Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," Faith said quietly as she trailed a finger down Wesley's chest. "Not only is he working for the bad guy, but he's fucking her too."

"I can guarantee you that the situation isn't what you think it is, Faith."

"So what is this _situation_?"

Wesley sighed. "I don't know… at the moment. I just need you to trust me for once when I tell you that it would be in your best interests to keep a low profile for a while."

"And why should I trust you?"

"Because you have no choice," he frowned, finally dropping his arms.

Faith returned the frown and opened her mouth to speak, but a knock at Wesley's apartment door interrupted her. The frown changed to a smile as she whispered, "Looks like your girlfriend is making her little midnight visit."

Wesley looked down the hallway as the knocking started again. When he turned back to Faith, she had already flopped back onto his bed, grinning.

"Maybe I should stick around," she said as she sat up on her elbows. "Check out the festivities for myself, huh?"

"Faith…." he began as the knocking continued.

"You better go answer that. You'd hate to keep her waiting," she smirked.

With a groan, Wesley started out of the bedroom. 

When he opened the apartment door, Lilah greeted him with a smirk that was eerily reminiscent of the one Faith had just given him.

"Took you long enough," she said, stepping into his apartment.

Wesley did not respond. He closed the door, locking it again. He glanced down the hallway towards his bedroom before turning his gaze to Lilah.

"You're later than normal."

She shrugged as she tossed her overcoat onto the back of the couch. "Evil knows no time limits."

Wesley simply nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. Lilah approached him, smiling playfully. "So…." She stopped as she caught a glimpse of his bruised hand. "What happened to your hand?"

"Like you care," he replied.

"You're right," she replied with a evil smile. "I don't."

She started towards the bedroom, and Wesley braced himself for whatever was about to happen. When Lilah disappeared into the bedroom, Wesley felt himself tense up.

"Wes, I'm not going to wait on you all damn night," Lilah called from within the bedroom.

Wesley quickly made his way down the hall. When he reached the doorway, Lilah stood in the center of the room, her hands gracefully poised on her hips.

Wesley glanced towards the open window, holding in a sigh of relief.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Ahem…a poem… "Roses are red/Violets are blue/The feedback here rocks/and so do you!" Thank you. Thank you. I'm here all week…..

**********

"I'm quite busy the rest of the afternoon. I have four other cases to send back out and two appointments. If your research needs are that urgent, call Beverly and have her squeeze you in sometime tomorrow."

Wesley hung up his cell phone with a sigh and slid it into the inner pocket of his jacket. Glancing at his watch, he grabbed his briefcase and strolled out of his office.

Did they think he had all the time in the world? That he would drop everything just because they had slacked off and now needed research help immediately. He had his own job to do, his own cases to research. He didn't have time for his colleagues petty problems.

Wesley slipped into the elevator as the doors began to close. He smiled politely at the woman standing beside him before turning his gaze straight ahead.

As the elevator doors slid close, Wesley found himself staring at his own reflection. The reflection of a man that resembled him, but at the same time, he could not recognize.

What the hell was happening to him? He had taken the job to do what he needed to do, not to become one of the Wolfram and Hart drones. But here he was. In his nice suit with his expensive briefcase, complaining about colleagues and thinking about everything he needed to accomplish after lunch.

He had become one of them. He had eased seamlessly into this new persona of his, and he had never once realized it.

Wesley silently scolded himself for losing sight of the mission so quickly. He still had so many questions to answer in regards to Faith and what role she played in the coming apocalypse. Just knowing whose side she would be on would change everything. It would change whether she lived or she died, and it would change if he would have to be the one to take her life or if Wolfram and Hart would be glad to do the deed.

The elevator eased to a stop at the ground floor. The doors opened and the woman who had been riding along with him stepped off. He watched her leave and touched the button to his floor.

There were more important things to do right now than lunch with the other drones.

**********

Fred sat on the hotel counter as Gunn stood beside her, a reassuring hand on her knee. They exchanged a worried glance as Angel descended the staircase.

"Hey, guys," he said as he approached them. 

They didn't respond to his greeting, and Angel looked at them, concerned. "Are you guys, okay?"

"Angel, we have something to tell you," Gunn replied. "About Wesley."

Angel crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

Fred pulled nervously at a loose strand of hair. "Um, he's kinda working for Wolfram and Hart."

"_Kinda_?"

"Okay. It's more like he's _definitely_ working for Wolfram and Hart," Fred corrected. "He's their new VP of research."

Angel chuckled and shook his head.

"Angel?" Gunn asked.

"When did you guys find out?"

"Yesterday," Gunn replied. "Fred saw it in the paper and went to see him."

Angel's eyes shot to her immediately, and Fred shrugged nervously. "To hear what he had to say about it."

"And?" Angel asked.

"He didn't have _anything_ to say about it."

"So now that Wes has officially gone to the dark side, what do we do?" Gunn asked.

"I'll just have to deal with him, the same way I do everyone else at Wolfram and Hart."

**********

Wesley awoke slightly as thunder rumbled outside. As he listened to the rumble fade away, he slipped back into unconsciousness. Only as he was on the brink of falling back into a deep slumber did he feel the hand wrap around his throat.

His eyes flew open as his hands instinctively moved to pry the assailant's grip from his throat. Even in the darkness of his apartment, Wesley could recognize the eyes that were peering at him, the hands that wrapped themselves firmly around his throat.

"Hi, Wesley. We need to talk." Angel shrugged slightly as he continued, "Actually, I'll talk. You'll listen. I hear you have a new job. Probably have a nice office with a spectacular view of the city, huh?"

Wesley could only gasp in response, as he tried vainly to pry Angel's grip from his neck.

"I never got the chance to thank you for saving me." He leaned closer as he whispered menacingly, "But if I find out that you saved me because of some Wolfram and Hart agenda, _you'll _be the one who needs to saved. Do you understand me?"

"You know, it's very rude to disturb someone while they're trying to sleep."

Both men turned to the voice as the ceiling light came on.

Faith stood in the doorway, crossbow aimed at Angel.

Angel looked at her, surprised. He wanted to ask her when she had gotten out of jail, why she hadn't made a move to contact him since her release. But at the moment, he was more concerned by the fact that she was aiming a crossbow at him….

"Faith, what are you doing?" he asked sternly.

"Maybe I should be asking you that. I mean, you _are _the one strangling my former Watcher."

Angel released Wesley, and Wesley gasped for air to stop the burning in his lungs. Angel took a step back as Wesley quickly removed himself from the bed, breathing hard.

"Faith, don't involve yourself here," Wesley replied between breaths.

Faith glanced at him. "Too late now."

"Faith, you're a little out of your league here," Angel replied. 

"Maybe. Maybe not," she shrugged, her finger tense on the trigger of the crossbow.

Angel stared at her for a moment before replying, "He'd be dead before you pulled the trigger."

"Or maybe you'd be dust before you could lift a finger," Faith smiled crookedly.

Silence engulfed the room as Angel and Faith stared each other down, Wesley simply looking on, a hand to his tender throat.

"Can I just ask one thing?" Faith asked, her arm never relaxing. "When the hell did everyone lose their damn minds in this place? _I'm_ supposed to be the rebel on the line between good and bad, not you guys."

"A lot has changed since you last saw us, Faith," Angel replied.

"Obviously."

Angel watched her for a moment, attempting to read her body language. Faith, however, remained unmoving-- a warrior ready for battle at the drop of a hat.

Angel took a step towards Wesley. 

His reflexes still not up to par, the stake impaled his shoulder before he could fully dodge it.

He looked up at Faith, pulling the stake from his shoulder with a deep growl.

"You thought I was bullshitting you?" Faith asked.

"You're on the wrong side here, Faith," Angel grunted as he pressed his hand to his injured shoulder.

"Yeah, I probably am."

Angel simply nodded and walked towards the door. Faith backed away from the doorway, her arm still poised and ready, as Angel strolled out of the apartment.

Once he was gone, Faith finally lowered the crossbow. She turned to Wesley, who frowned at her as he replied, "You shouldn't have involved yourself, Faith."

"What was that, Wesley? I couldn't hear you clearly. Did you just say, 'Thank you, Faith, for saving my damn life from the obviously psychotic vampire?'"

"He was doing us both a favor," Wesley muttered under his breath as he made his way to close his bedroom window. "Maybe you should just go home, Faith."

As he turned, he felt an object shoot over his shoulder. He watched as the stake impaled itself into the wall in front of him. He turned to Faith, eyes wide.

Faith lowered the crossbow as she replied, "I'm not going home until you tell me what the hell is going on."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Feedback is my addiction. You all are my drug-dealers. Thank you for feeding my habit! 

**********

"Can I at least ask what you're doing here?"

Wesley poured Faith a glass of cold water before sitting down across from her at the kitchen table.

"You mean, besides saving your ass?" she asked and sipped from her drink.

"Yes, besides that. How did you know what was going on?"

"What? You're the only one allowed to stalk people?" She shrugged. "You follow me, I follow you. That's how this game works, right?"

Wesley laughed quietly to himself in response.

"I do need to know one thing though," Faith said, her eyes full of determination. "That _was _Angel, right? And not…?"

"Angelus, no," Wesley sighed. "That was Angel."

"Odd how that doesn't comfort me," she frowned. She finished off her drink quickly before asking, "So what the hell is going on? I mean, why are you following me? Why are you telling me to stay low?"

Wesley stood with a sigh. "As you know, I'm working for Wolfram and Hart," he said as he strolled into the living room. 

Faith sat patiently at the table as he called from somewhere within the living room. "They somehow found a new prophecy at their fingertips."

Wesley returned to the kitchen with an armful of books. He opened each of the journals to their earmarked pages and spread them across the table. He retrieved the notebook of his own translations from the pile before sitting.

"A prophecy about you."

"Me?" Faith asked, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Wow, I didn't know I was prophecy material." She smiled and reached for one of the books, flipping through its tattered and yellowed pages.

"You're not mentioned by name. No one ever is in these things," Wesley explained. "But there is a reference to the Chosen One turned dark."

The smile slipped from Faith's lips. "The Chosen One turned dark?"

"And considering that you and Buffy are the only Chosen Ones at the moment….."

"And I'm the one who tired to kill everybody," Faith finished with a frown. "Yeah, I get it. I'm the dark one. So what else is new?"

"How about the fact that it's written that you will play a key role in the coming apocalypse?"

"A key role?" She perked up again as she asked, "So I get to save the world?"

Wesley remained silent, and Faith's mood turned somber again as she laid down the book. "And then you don't answer me," she said.

"It's difficult to say, Faith…."

"It shouldn't be. I mean, this should be pretty straight to the point, right? Either I'm gonna save the world or…." She stopped, her eyes searching his for any answer. "Or I'm gonna destroy it. I'm gonna destroy the world?"

"I've been checking what sources I've been able to get my hands on, and at the moment, it's all very vague."

"Vague? Wesley, there's no room for vague here."

"I agree, but…." 

Wesley paused as he looked down at his scribbled writing-- scratches through lines he felt he had translated wrong, stars by words that seemed significant. Just like he had done time and time again….

__

The father will kill the son.

Wesley looked back up at Faith as he continued, "But prophecies are difficult, Faith. Especially when they're in demonic dialects for the most part."

"So what do you have so far?"

"A little bit of everything. All the texts clearly refer to the Chosen One turned dark and an apocalypse. From that point on, everything is a matter of translation. In the Kreslak tongue, there's mention of some form of alliance formed by the Chosen One. An alliance with whom, I'm not sure."

Faith sat back in her chair, listening.

"In the N'klid language, there are several mentions of obliteration and destruction when the Chosen One turned dark is called upon in the battle." Wesley looked at Faith reassuringly as he added, "But that could mean many things, Faith."

She simply nodded in response, her fingers wrapped tightly around her glass.

"Then there were the human languages. The Latin text mentions 'amicitia' or an alliance, and there is also mention of 'aboleo'. To destroy or do away with. I also came across a German text that contains a phrase which roughly translated means with intent to destroy."

"Noticing a theme?" Faith frowned.

"But these are just small pieces of the puzzle, Faith. Technically, none of these texts come right out and say you're going to destroy the world."

"But I am going to destroy _something_."

"And for all we know, that something could be whatever evil that rises."

Faith sat forward and slowly closed each of the books laid open on the table. Once they were closed, she returned her gaze to Wesley.

"The books are gone now," she said quietly. "I wanna know what _you_ think, not what the books have told you. What do you believe? Am I gonna be the one to end the world?"

Wesley held her stare but couldn't bring himself to speak.

Faith nodded in response. "All I needed to hear."

With that, she started out of the apartment.

"Faith," he called after her, but she didn't stop to acknowledge him. She pulled the apartment door closed as Wesley got to his feet.

**********

Wesley stepped outside, the rain pelting down upon him. He slowly walked up to Faith, who stood in the courtyard of the apartment complex, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

He stopped over her shoulder. "Faith?" he asked cautiously. "Are you okay?"

"I'm great," she chirped back. She glanced over her shoulder at him. "I'm going to destroy the world. Why wouldn't I be great?"

"Faith, with these prophecies…."

"The Chosen One turned dark?" she interrupted with a sniffle. "Kinda has a ring to it, huh?"

Wesley remained silent, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks as the rain continued to wash over them.

"I should have known, you know. Can't escape fate. No matter how much I try to change myself, it'll still be there. The darkness, the rage, the blood." She smoothed back her drenched hair with a bitter laugh. "I _am_ the dark one."

"Faith…." Wesley sighed.

"I'm seeing a shrink," she interrupted. "How fucked up is that? It's some pointless requirement. Part of my rehabilitation, they say." She laughed quietly. "So much for rehabilitation, huh?"

"Faith, prophecies are not written in stone. These things may not even come to pass. Buffy has defied prophecies time and time again." He paused, frowning. "I may even be wrong in my translations…."

She scoffed. "Wes, man, you were probably born translating demon languages."

With a sigh, Wesley stepped up beside her. He studied her for a moment as she stared out into the darkness of the night-- the rain dripping from her nose and chin, stray strands of hair glued to her cheeks.

"You can't put all your confidence in a prophecy. I know from experience," he said quietly. "Just because some ancient text makes a vague reference to you and some apocalypse doesn't make it so."

"Maybe not." She turned to him, her eyes locking with his. "But look me straight in the eye and tell me that you don't believe it. That you don't think I'm capable of destroying the world."

He held her stare silently for a moment. "We're all capable, Faith."

"You're avoiding the question," she smirked.

Wesley shrugged in response. "Actually, I'm looking _at_ the answer. My opinion doesn't really matter much here. It's yours. Do _you_ think you're capable?"

Faith sighed and turned her gaze ahead. "Honestly?" She turned back to him, a slight frown on her lips. "Yeah, I do."

Wesley returned the frown before smoothing back his drenched hair. He wiped a hand down his face before a slight smile formed on his lips. "Faith, you do realize that if we don't get into a dry environment soon, pneumonia will kill us before you'll ever get the chance?"

Faith turned to him, grinning. "When did you become the smart ass?"

"Things have changed," he replied and turned back towards the apartment.

"Obviously," she said, watching him depart. After a moment, she followed.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry for the long break between chapters, guys! Life has been hectic. But to make up for it, expect the next part by Friday!

**********

"I knew it was a bad idea to tell you," Fred complained as she bandaged Angel's shoulder. She sighed. "Hold still." 

Angel simply sighed as he sat back on the settee, Fred taping down the gauze over his wound.

"Didn't know Wes was such a good shot." Gunn crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Fred bandage the wounded vampire.

"Wesley didn't shoot me," Angel admitted as Fred stepped away, gathering all the items from the first aid kit. He buttoned up his shirt as he continued, "Faith did."

"Faith?" Fred asked.

"She's a Slayer. She was in jail for murder. Must have gotten out on parole."

"So a Slayer-- a girl who spends her _whole _life killing vamps-- shot you in the _shoulder_?" Gunn asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It was a warning shot," Angel replied. "I didn't think she'd actually pull the trigger."

"Well, looks like you assumed wrong," Fred frowned as she made her way towards the office to return the kit. 

Gunn watched Fred disappear into the office before he turned his attention back to Angel. "Let me get this straight-- she was _protecting_ Wesley?"

"Seems that way."

"Why?"

"I don't know. A lot of things aren't making sense right now," Angel sighed. "We need to find out why Wesley is working for Wolfram and Hart and what exactly he's telling them, and we need to find out how all of this involves Faith...."

"Because if Wolfram and Hart got a Slayer on their team, we're in deep shit," Gunn concluded.

"Exactly."

**********

"Thanks."

Faith retrieved the towel and T-shirt from Wesley's hands. She tossed the shirt onto his bed as she wiped her face dry and then moved to her hair, squeezing out as much water as she could into the towel.

"I have a pair of sweat bottoms here somewhere that you can borrow," he said as he made his way to the dresser.

"Maybe next time I have an epiphany, I should have it inside, huh?" Faith laughed from over his shoulder.

"I think that would be in everyone's best interests, Faith," he smiled as he tugged at his own wet shirt that continued to cling to him like a second skin.

There was silence for a moment before Faith said, "I'm sorry I didn't trust you."

"I gave you no reason to trust me," Wesley admitted as he continued to search the drawers.

"No, you didn't. You should have told me what was going on in the beginning."

Wesley looked up to respond and caught Faith's reflection in the mirror. Her back to him, she peeled her wet shirt from her body. 

No inhibitions. She didn't care that he was in the room with her, didn't care that he could be watching her. If he wanted, he could probably walk right up to her, grab a handful of her damp hair, and kiss her, and she probably wouldn't object. Hell, she'd been locked away for nearly two years, she'd probably welcome the attention…. Even if it was from her former Watcher. They could peel off the rest of their damp clothes and warm each other far into the night….

__

Where the hell did that come from, Pryce? he thought to himself.

With that, Wesley slammed the drawer shut on his fingers.

"Son of a bitch!" he hissed as he instinctively pulled his hand away from the drawer. He growled at himself as he shook his injured hand.

"You okay?"

Wesley looked up into the mirror to see Faith fully dressed again and watching him.

"Fine," he grunted.

Faith walked up to him, a slight smile on her face. "Next time, take your hand _out _of the drawer before you close it."

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied as he pulled open the bottom drawer. Sitting on top of the pile of clothing in that drawer, were the sweats he was looking for. He retrieved them with a sigh and handed them to Faith.

Faith took them from his hand, and as she made note of the bruise, her smile faded. "Sorry about that."

Wesley shrugged in response. "I shouldn't have snuck up on you. It was a mistake."

"Yeah, because you're not dead. Otherwise, it wouldn't be a mistake. Then it'd be murder, wouldn't it?"

It took a moment for Faith's words to register with him. "Oh. Faith, I…. It completely slipped my mind. That's why you freaked out, wasn't it?"

"First of all, I don't freak out, okay? And secondly, it took you _this_ long to figure it out? Not as perceptive as I thought you were, Pryce."

Wesley frowned. "I'm sorry I tried to send you away, Faith. I shouldn't have acted so brashly. I was following the rules, what I believed to be proper protocol. I was naïve."

"You were a jackass," Faith replied, walking towards his bed and sitting on the corner.

"Maybe I was that, too. Either way, I was wrong. You needed me to be your Watcher, to be your mentor-- not your executioner. And I'm sorry."

Faith laughed quietly in response.

"What?" Wesley asked.

"You're the first person who has ever apologized to me for _anything_. After all I've done to you, you still apologize to me." She grinned. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"People have been asking me that question a lot lately," he chuckled.

"So what now?" Faith sighed. "With the prophecy. What now?"

"I keep trying to find answers and hope that I can find them before Wolfram and Hart can."

"And if they beat you to it?"

"It all depends which side the text says you'll be on. If you're not on the side they want…."  


"Then I won't have to worry about the apocalypse, huh?" she replied as she stood and approached him.

Wesley did not reply.

Faith stared at him for a moment before reaching out to touch his throat. "You never did tell me what was up with the scar."

Wesley reached up and gently grabbed her hand, her cool fingers brushing against the warm skin of his neck. "It's a long story."

"I got time."

"Okay," he said, releasing her hand. "I got my throat slit trying to do what I thought was best for a friend." He stopped and smirked slightly. "I suppose it wasn't such a long story after all."

"Guess not," Faith yawned.

Wesley glanced over her shoulder towards the window as a bolt of lightning lit the sky. "The weather appears to be getting worse. You're welcome to stay the night. I'll just sleep on the couch."

"You're actually going to let _me_ stay the night," Faith chuckled.

Wesley shrugged and grinned. "I could always use the protection."

Faith smiled and gently poked Wesley in the chest. "And if your girlfriend decides to stop by for some midnight fun?"

"Let her," he replied quietly.

"Well, aren't you the changed man?"

With that, Wesley wrapped an arm around Faith's waist and pulled her roughly towards him. "Very changed," he smiled.

Faith stared at him for a moment, shocked, before leaning in for the kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

*A/N: Thanks again guys for your patience and for your feedback!! Brightens my day!!*

**********

Wearing one of Wesley's undershirts, Faith slept peacefully-- her dark hair fanned out over the pillow.

Sitting up on his elbow, his cheek propped up against his palm, Wesley couldn't help but watch her. To think that it had been Lilah who had been in that spot so many nights before. Lilah with her cold heart and their unemotional sex. He had almost forgotten what it had felt like to feel a true connection with the other person. To feel more than just anger and guilt and lust when his fingers trailed the skin of the woman he was with. A connection....

Wesley had to stop himself from laughing out loud. No wonder everyone seemed to be questioning his sanity lately. Sleeping with Lilah was one thing-- just something to keep his mind off the hell his life was slowly becoming, just something to satisfy his primal needs. But to sleep with Faith and actually _feel _something? Not even three years had passed since _she_ had tried to slit his throat and yet here he was. Sleeping with her. Resisting the urge to run his fingers gently through her hair. Watching her sleep and thinking about where they could go from here....

Faith's eyes opened slowly, and all he could do was smile softly at her. She smiled back. "Hey."

"Hey," he replied.

"Were you watching me sleep?" she asked, squinting her eyes at him.

He waited a moment before admitting, "Yes, I was."

"And that's not at all creepy," she grinned. Wesley simply smiled in response. "Don't you have a certain diabolical job to be getting ready for?"

He glanced over his shoulder at his alarm clock. "I still have time."

"Really?" she asked playfully as she sat up. She gently pushed Wesley onto his back and straddled him. She rhythmically tapped her fingers on his chest as he grasped her hips.

"So your plan worked, huh?" she smirked.

Wesley ran his hands down to Faith's bare, toned thighs. He squeezed them gently before running his hands back up under her shirt, his warm fingers tracing lines across her hips.

"Plan?" he asked.

"The whole give-the-girl-a-place-to-crash-for-the-night-and-someone-to-confide-in-and-then-make-your-move plan...."

Wesley chuckled quietly. "Is that the _official_ title of the plan?"

"It's a working title," she shrugged.

"Well, I didn't think I was using a plan, but now that you've mentioned it, I'll be quite sure to use it next time."

Faith leaned down and grabbed Wesley's earlobe gently between her teeth. She pulled slightly before releasing it and whispering, "Who said there'd be a next time?"

"How rash of me to assume," he smiled wryly.

"Maybe _this_ is your next time, huh?"

"Well, in that case...." In one fluid motion, Wesley wrapped his arm around Faith's waist and flipped her onto her back, pinning her to the mattress. "I should probably make the most of this, huh?"

"Most definitely," Faith purred.

Wesley leaned down to kiss her, and the alarm clock went off. They both turned to it as the morning DJ described the traffic situations on the major streets and highways.

"So what's it gonna be?" Faith asked.

Wesley looked down at her before turning his gaze back to the clock. Untangling himself from Faith's embrace, he reached over and yanked the cord out of the wall.

"I can be late every once and a while," he smiled. He sidled back up to her and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

**********

"Sorry, I couldn't make it by last night." 

Lilah leaned against the edge of Wesley's desk, watching as he searched his bookcase. When he didn't reply, she continued. "I'm sure you were disappointed."

His back to her, Wesley pulled a journal from the shelves. He flipped it open as he mumbled absently, "Yes, highly disappointed."

Lilah cocked her head at him, a sly smile on her face. She approached him slowly and lingered over his shoulder. She gently traced her fingers back and forth across his shoulders as she replied, "I hope you were able to keep yourself entertained in my absence."

He glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled. "Quite entertained."

"Hmm," Lilah simply replied.

Wesley flipped to another page in the journal before turning to Lilah again. "Is there a reason you're hovering? It's rather distracting."

"Aren't we grumpy?" she smiled. "Someone didn't get enough sleep last night."

"Lilah, I really don't have time for this this morning," he sighed as he made his way to his desk.

"You're the one who decided to sleep in," she shrugged.

"Yes, and now, I actually need to be doing my job. You know-- that _thing _you hired me for?" With a slight roll of his eyes, he turned his attention back to the journal open on his desk.

"I should be going anyway. Big meeting in a bit."

Wesley simply looked up at her, and she laughed quietly in response.

"What?" he asked.

"Just find it amusing. All that time you spent denying that you would ever work for us-- that you were too good for us. Well, look at you now, dear Wesley. You fit in perfectly around here."

She chuckled again to herself as she strolled out of the office.

**********

Fred flipped through the bills with a sigh. She wasn't sure what was worse-- the cloud of debt that seemed to be hovering over all of them or everything that was going on with Angel and Wesley....

"Babe, you okay?"

Fred looked up to see Gunn standing in the office doorway. She threw him a weak smile as she replied, "I'm fine. I was just wondering exactly how many of our organs we would have to sell in order to pay all our bills."

"Look, babe, we'll get through this," he said as he approached the desk. "Angel's back now, and we can finally start taking on some real cases. We'll be back to slightly above broke in no time."

Fred smiled and opened her mouth to speak, but a voice from the lobby interrupted.

"Hey, anyone home?"

Gunn gave Fred an I-told-you-so look as they walked out of the office, Fred leading the way. Standing in the lobby was a young woman-- not much older than Fred herself. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her hip hugger jeans and her wavy dark hair cascaded over her shoulders onto her basic white T-shirt.

"Hi, welcome to Angel Investigations. How can we help you?" Fred habitually replied.

"I need to talk to Angel."

"Maybe we can help you."

"Yeah, I don't think you can. This is between me and Angel. Just tell him Faith's here to see him."

Fred's eyes widened and Gunn replied, "You're the one who shot him?"

"Yeah, I am," she admitted without hesitation. She removed her hands from her pockets and crossed her arms over her chest. "Kinda didn't leave me any choice. So is he around, or are you guys just going to keep staring all morning?"

"Faith?" 

Angel descended the staircase and approached them. He and Faith simply stared at each other. Fred took Gunn's hand and gently pulled him away to the office. They hovered in the office doorway, listening, as Faith finally spoke.

"How's the shoulder?" she asked.

"I've had worse," Angel replied nonchalantly, crossing his arms and unconsciously mimicking Faith's stance.

"Look, I'm gonna get straight to the point here, Angel. I don't know what your beef with Wes is or why you want his blood so badly, but lay off. He has his reasons for doing what he's doing."

"Faith, do you know who he's working for? He's working for...."

"Wolfram and Hart. Yeah, I know that. And I know he has his reasons so I'm telling you to lay off."

"You're _telling_ me," Angel scoffed, slightly amazed by Faith's tone.

"Yeah, I am. Just like I told you last night. But trust me, Angel, you try that shit again, and I _won't_ miss."

"So you _are_ protecting him...."

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"Faith, you're on the wrong side here," Angel sighed. "Wesley is not the same man who you remember." He paused, studying her for a moment. "But you know that already, don't you?"

"Just lay off. That's all I'm asking," Faith said as she turned and made her way out of the hotel. She pulled open the door before turning back to Angel and adding, "He _does_ have his reasons, Angel."

And with that, she was gone.

Angel frowned deeply as the intermingled scent of Wesley and Faith continued to linger in the air.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks again for the feedback, gang! Sorry for the longer breaks between chapters-- classes are getting a tad hectic!!

**********

Tell me her future.

Wesley sat at his kitchen table, surrounded by open books and journals. He closed his eyes and brought his fingers to his throbbing temples. As he opened his eyes, he glanced down at his watch. He had been surrounded by these books for hours-- from the very moment he had stumbled in the door from work. For hours, he had flipped through references and cross-references. He had translated and transcribed.

Tell me her future.

Every journal, every translation, returned him to the very same spot. The apocalypse would come. The ultimate battle between good and evil would commence. The Chosen One turned Dark would enter the battle, forming an alliance. Then nothing. Vague references to destruction and obliteration. One text, roughly translated, proclaimed rivers of blood in the streets. Another made reference to an eclipse that would last for days, until the battle was done. But none, not one single translation he had come across so far had mentioned what was truly important to him. Which side would Faith be on?

He was in a race against Wolfram and Hart to find the answers, to find Faith's foretold future. By accident, he had found out just how much of a race when he happened to overhear a conversation in the hallway. A conversation between Lilah and Gavin. Wesley had listened intently as Lilah chided the man for not bringing her any new information on the prophecy. Apparently, Gavin knew even less than Wesley, and that gave Wesley a temporary sense of relief. Sooner or later though, Gavin would find the answers. Wesley just had to make sure he found them first.

And if he did find the answer, what then? If Faith happened to be on the side of good? It would be a relief to him _and _to her, but then, he would have to find some way for Wolfram and Hart to never get that information. With that kind of knowledge, they would hunt her down and slaughter her without hesitation. 

But what if she was on their side-- what if she was foretold to destroy the world? That thought lingered at the back of his mind constantly, the fear of what that foretelling would mean. The fear of what he would have to do to prevent it…. Could he sacrifice one to save many? If the time came and the gates into darkness opened, would he be able to do it?

With a frown, Wesley turned his gaze to his scribbled writing in his notebook.

"Tell me her future," he mumbled.

**********

She hated working the night shift. There were barely any customers, which meant there were barely any tips. And it cut into her slaying time, and she hated that more than anything.

Thank God it was over.

"See you tomorrow Faith," Debbie called from her spot at the counter.

Faith waved goodbye as she eagerly strolled out of the diner, the sound of the chime above the door ringing as she stepped out into the night. She glanced down at her watch and smiled. She still had plenty of time. She could run home, change into something more kicking ass-oriented, and be on her way.

She listened to the sound of her sneakers scraping against the sidewalk as she started home. She went through her mental check list of weapons to grab as she turned a corner. Before she even got half way down the block, she stopped with an agitated sigh.

"Why is everyone so intent on stalking me?" she groaned without turning to face her follower.

Angel stepped from the shadows a few feet behind her, and Faith turned to him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm not stalking you," he replied.

"So what do you call creeping in the shadows behind me?"

Angel did not respond.

"So what is this? I tell you to lay off Wes so you start on me now?"

Angel slipped his hands into the pockets of his duster. "No, I just have some questions I think you might be able to answer."

"Questions about Wesley," she frowned.

"Questions about why he's working for Wolfram and Hart," Angel corrected.

"I told you-- he has his reasons."

Faith turned to walk away, but Angel quickly reached out and grabbed her arm. Just as quickly, Faith turned and swung at him, her fist colliding with his jaw violently. Angel let go of her as the blood from his split lip seeped into his mouth. Faith stared at him, her eyes dancing between anger and an apology. When she spoke, however, she chose anger.

"Don't fucking touch me," she growled.

Angel gingerly touched his lip, wiping away the blood with his thumb. He chuckled darkly as he replied, "I almost forgot how hard a Slayer can hit."

"That was just a warning."

"I need to know what you know, Faith."

"Look, all I know is that there's a prophecy."

Angel's jaw clenched at the word. "A prophecy about what?"

Faith paused for a moment. "Nothing that matters to you."

"You're wrong, Faith. Whatever it is, it matters to me."

"Why the hell should it?"

Angel watched her for a moment, studying her. "He hasn't told you, has he?"

"Told me what?"

"Why he's not working for me anymore."

"I didn't ask."

"Maybe you should start asking," Angel replied before strolling away, leaving Faith alone.

**********

The knocking woke him with a start.

Wesley's eyes shot open. He lifted his head slowly as the page from the journal peeled away from his cheek. He glanced up at the clock over his kitchen doorway. Midnight. He ran a hand through his hair, wondering when the hell he had fallen asleep.

Knock. Knock.

With a deep sigh, Wesley pulled himself from the chair and stretched. He frowned as he made his way to the door. Only one person would be at his doorstep this late at night, and he wasn't in the mood for her right now. Maybe not ever again. He pulled the door open, preparing his best some-other-time speech.

"Faith?" he asked, staring at the girl in shock.

He couldn't help but look her over. She was still wearing her work uniform-- a knee-length white skirt with blue trim and a matching white blouse with blue trim around the collar. An innocent outfit that made him think not-so-innocent thoughts.

He cleared his throat as his eyes met her gaze. "What are you doing here?"

"Here's the deal, Wesley. I need to know the truth, and if you don't tell me the truth, I'll be forced to kick your ass."

"The truth about what exactly, Faith?"

"The truth about why you're one of the bad guys."

"Faith, you know I'm trying to figure out what's going on with this prophecy…."

Faith stepped past him and into the apartment. He closed the door and turned to her as she replied, "That's the _only_ reason why. Because you wanted to find out my future? Because all of a sudden, you actually give a damn about what happens to the girl who tried to kill you?"

Wesley studied her for a moment, not sure what to make of her sudden lack of trust in him. He slowly crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes, it's the only reason why. Faith, what's going on?"

She sat on the arm of his couch, her fingers brushing back and forth across the smooth fabric. "So… you are doing this because of me?"

"Faith," he sighed and approached her. "I'm not doing anything _because_ of you. I'm doing this for you-- to find out what's to come."

Faith smiled slightly as Wesley stood between her legs. She gently wrapped her legs around his waist, her skirt riding up high on her thighs. Wesley leaned down to kiss her, his fingers entangling in Faith's mane. 

As their lips brushed, Faith whispered, "Liar. There's another prophecy."

"What?" Wesley asked, pulling away.

"There's another prophecy you're not telling me about," she replied as she unlocked her legs from around him. "Another prophecy that not only has Angel out for your blood but has him stalking me in search of answers. What is it?"

Wesley nodded, finally understanding. He took a step away from Faith. "Remember that long story that ended with me getting my throat slit?"

Faith simply looked at him in response.

"Well, that story _is _rather long."

"I got nowhere else to be," Faith said quietly.

**********

"Next time I ask for the truth, just lie to me," Faith frowned. 

She ran her finger around the rim of her wine glass and sighed. Wesley shrugged and finished off his drink before sitting back in the kitchen chair. 

"You _wanted _the truth," he replied.

She looked up at him. "Yeah, but I didn't expect the truth to be so fucking _unreal_." She paused, tilting her head slightly. "So Angel has a kid out there?"

Wesley nodded. He reached into the center of the table, grabbing the wine bottle. He refilled Faith's glass before refilling his own. The last drop of wine fell to his glass and he placed the empty bottle back onto the table.

"Amazing, huh?"

"Wes, I don't even think amazing covers it." She took a large sip from her glass before sitting forward. "So, Angel did the deed and had a kid, and yet we're still sitting here. Pretty calm and _alive_ considering what happened the last time Angel got groiny."

"I don't know how to explain it. Apparently, he found a loophole."

"Lucky us," Faith frowned. 

"Yes." Wesley sipped from his drink before asking, "So, did you tell him about the prophecy?"

"No." Faith turned her gaze to her glass as she gently swirled the liquid.

"Really?"

"It was none of his business," she mumbled.

"So… you didn't tell him because it was none of his business, or you didn't tell him because you didn't want him to know?"

Faith looked up at him, a deep frown on her lips. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that maybe you didn't tell him because you didn't want him to know. That you believe if you tell him that you are possibly foretold to destroy the world that that would somehow make it more true."

Faith rolled her eyes and sighed. "You're starting to sound like my therapist."

"Perhaps I should start charging you then."

"Perhaps you could shove it," she smirked. Her smirk softened as she asked, "So are there any other sagas I should know about?"

"I believe that was it." He paused as he watched her finish off her drink. He smiled softly at her as he asked, "So, will I be showing you to the door tonight?"

"What do _you _think?" she asked, returning the smile.


End file.
